


The Final Battle

by Pbhead



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Death, John - Freeform, Scorpio, Vriska - Freeform, all of the, dead, flip - Freeform, spidertroll, tavros - Freeform, terezi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pbhead/pseuds/Pbhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vriska's final struggle.</p><p>This can be downloaded (with pictures!) at this link: http://www.mediafire.com/?it7kazbawnabt3y</p><p>(url codes dont seem to work for some reason, so your going to have to copy/paste. sorry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Battle

  **The Final Battle**

     Heads, you say. Scratch, you go. Scratch. Easy enough. Time to leave: be the hero of light.

  
     You turn to walk away from your beaten rival. If you can call her that. Cute little blind girl, defeated playing a game of luck. All she does is play with her little coin and her silly sword which doubles as her walking cane. Never anything real. Nothing she does is ever serious.   You, however, are serious; you are here to win, no longer to play games.

  
     As you take your first step, you raise your right hand, and give her a little wave goodbye. Won her game, but, the win for you is not the toss itself, no, it’s the fact that with a single wave, you can get her to feel anger. Maybe even contempt. It must burn her. Burn her that you are going to once again save her life. Why? Because like it or not, she is one of your friends.

  
     Everything is so complicated. Dealing with these people is complicated. After this, you want something simple and easy. Your thoughts drift to John. He is not one of your friends. John is simple: always happy. Why? He has every reason not to be. His friends, his family… It is something you do not understand. Maybe it is because you have been showing him his own strength, turning him into a man. It took a bit of tough love, perhaps some manipulation on your part, but he has done great. Maybe he will be an even better hero than you? Perhaps, once your last task is done, maybe he can teach you a few things. You doubt it. But, still, he is so happy. Again, why? You are still waiting for his reply to the message you typed to him. Waiting.

  
     You can’t wait till this is over. You are tired of having to be the best. Tired of all the plots and schemes. Almost done. One last challenge, then everything will be behind you.

  
     The girl is behind you. You lower your arm. Right now is only what is ahead. It is time to finally end it. Fix everything. Fixed, like that game of chance you played with her, your way; the way you want it. It is time finish what fate has started, and save the lives of your few remaining friends.

  
     You hesitate at the thought, but only for a second, because for once, you are about to be the hero. You could not have it any other way. This thought makes you smile. You are about to claim all of the glory. ALL of it. Your catch phrase, you use it often, and you love it. You glance down, and see your laptop ahead of you, humming, on the otherwise featureless concrete expanse below what is a black and star-less sky. No reply from John yet, but that is fine. Everything feels fine.

  
     You feel something else… something, what? Wrong. Like, the subtlest of skips in your perception, as if reality suddenly corrected itself, as if something… something very minor instantly changed. Like a scratch in time. It felt like the prevention of... It felt like something that could not possibly happen! It felt like… intense pain.

  
     Your eyes widen as your brain attempts to make sense of the thousands of nerves suddenly screaming at once, all in the center of your chest. Looking down, you see a thin, foreshortened metal object protruding out from directly below your sternum. It is covered in your blood.

  
     Flip the coin, you said. You ‘go’. She said. You knew what she meant, but you also know she could never have actually… she is blind! She didn’t care what the coin did! Never noticed your wave goodbye!

  
     The long blade retreats through the wound, cutting deeper into your flesh as it moves. More pain. You stare, frozen at the elongated hole in your chest, you watch, unmoving as the blood begins to soak your shirt. Stunned: not so much by the pain or the sight you see, but of your own mistake. For once, it seems she was serious. No emotion, no aggravation. The vile wretch! But, you have been through so much, something so small cannot possibly slow you down. Forward.

  
     You suddenly remember about breathing. As you shift your weight in preparation to take a step, you inhale. Your diaphragm invites air not only into your lungs, but also into the injury. The sudden pain of your organs being exposed to the atmosphere causes you instead to fall to your knees. It feels like your insides are burning. Acid. Acid from your own stomach is leaking out into the deep cut, adding to what is quickly becoming excruciating pain. Still, this is not the worst thing you have experienced… you guess?

  
     You attempt to breathe out, but it seems that your diaphragm is expelling as much blood from your chest as it does air from your lungs. The trickle of fluid from your now drenched shirt turns into a steady flow. You use your right hand to apply pressure to the wound, but it does not seem to help.  
     Helping is all you wanted to do. John has his strength now. You tried to show Tavros his own strength but he refused to see it. He was so weak! Weak and late, always late, but it is too late for him now. You; however, are not weak. You defeated the dark king! More pressure against the wound. More pain, but you are strong. You must be. Only one final battle to go until you are victorious.

  
     Still, this must be similar to what Tavros felt after you… you are sorry. You have been sorry. No physical wound would cause you to think differently about it. You had and still regret it, and even though he was the aggressor, you still would like to undo all of it. Heh. All of the…

  
     With the pain caused by your small laugh, you tip forward, catching yourself with your left arm. You find yourself staring at the blood now trickling from your chest into the palm of your right hand, which then drips onto the floor. Why did he oppose you? Why could he not see what was necessary? Why must he have been so aggravating?

  
     Once again you hold your right hand against your chest; once again try to breathe in. This time, though, air is blocked from entering from the front, and instead the vacuum created by your diaphragm pulls air across the scored connective tissue between your spine and ribcage where the blade made its entry. Once again air enters into the lesion. The agony causes you jerk your head up and clench your fists. You do not cry out, you are tougher than that. Your vision now sees only what is ahead of you.

  
     You see only nothing but concrete, your laptop, and the empty black sky. This place may be empty and void, but that can be changed. Once you finish your final challenge, there will be time for that. You are practically a god in this place, and a god cannot die. Everything has been wiped clean, not that you particularly wanted it, but that was the result. And now you get to rebuild it. Everything will be perfect. You have so many plans, and all of the power… As soon as you stop bleeding on this wretched… but wait, your laptop! John is replying! It seems he would love to go out on a…

  
     You find your hand clenched, holding your shirt. You let go, and move your bloody right hand towards the keyboard, but your muscles fail you. You collapse face down. The pain is renewed as the weight of your body lands against the concrete floor.  
     … date. You never really had someone you liked. Loved? You mean, at least not towards anyone still… you have got to stop thinking about the past. John you have a chance at.

  
     A chance. You had a chance. An opportunity to change things, fix things, you were going to make everything right. You were going to save your friends… no, you still will. Right? Of course. As soon as you gather enough strength, you are going to get up and destroy the final enemy. Finish your plan. You silently mouth these words to yourself over and over again.

  
     The pool of warm blood now reaches all the way to your lips. You exhale slightly to push the liquid away. Your body is beginning to panic, starved of blood, your heart begins to race, but every heart beat, every painful, agonizing breath, causes more and more of the very thing your body needs to vacate your weakening shell. It will; however, not give up easily. You feel a surge of hormones, a last ditch automatic response, heightening your senses, keeping your mind clear.

  
     Footsteps behind you? You heard her sheath her weapon a while ago, but she has done nothing since, her shadow over you has not moved. It must be someone else, if you could just turn…

  
     Just. Is that what this is? Justice? The thought of the word begins to cause your mind to race. No, it can’t be, can it? All of your actions were completely justifiable, were they not? You had every right! Bad? Maybe, but wrong? No! You had your reasons. Everything necessary. In the end they will see. Everything perfectly excusable. It can’t be just if you have not done wrong? You haven’t done anything to deserve death. Not in your own mind. Can’t be. Now is not your time.

  
     In your panic, you pull your left foot across the concrete towards yourself, while placing your left hand in a position which will allow you to stand. Moving hurts, but you are strong. Right? With all the strength you can muster, you push against the ground, but the pool of blood is slippery, and once again you find painful contact with the floor. You suddenly feel so weak. Your body is refusing to respond to your commands, as your circulatory system has begun shutting down blood flow to your extremities to keep blood at your head and heart.

  
     Turn your head at least. See what they are up to. Your long black hair has mixed with your fluids, and has become a thick mat, weighing your head down. Try as you might, after your last expenditure of effort, you cannot lift it. Every struggle, every motion you make simply causes the pain to hurt more. Every effort means more swill flowing onto the ground. You still struggle, curling your fingers; scratching at the floor.

  
     So much pain, it seems to be everywhere now. Are your lungs filling with fluid? You can’t tell. The bile from your stomach seems to now be burning away at every nerve in your spine. In, dare you say, previous situations you managed to find yourself unconscious. But this time, you are completely alert. And it HURTS. All of the pain. All of it. You cringe in agony.

  
     What did you do wrong? You look back on the recent past, trying to find out what could have gone awry. Your plan was perfect, was it not? Yet, why did she confront you in the first place? How did she know where you were? Someone else must have tipped her off. No, it was part of someone else’s plan, another scheme. Another of your ‘friends’ wanting to claim what is yours. Right? Of course. Business as usual; and you fell for it. No other explanation… yet, who else could possibly have the strength for the final battle still ahead? Your fingers cease their motion, and you try to perceive this empty world from the sounds around you.

  
     Behind you. Hugging? Who, why? You are not dead. Oh, NOW she is feeling emotion. Your thoughts turn to anger. How dare they embrace each other! She stabbed you! For what? Her eyes you took? Far in the unimportant past. For Tavros? He… no. For the deaths of the thousands of meaningless others? The weight of your actions of what you have done in just the past few hours begins to creep up on you.

  
     The pool of blood reaches your eyes, and you instinctively close them to prevent the salty liquid from burning them. As if that could hurt more than what you are already going though. As the world goes dark, so does your body grow cold. Your ears begin to ring loudly, and the horrible pain upwelling from the center of your chest begins to numb… pins and needles. Pins and needles everywhere.

  
     Every action, you were simply suggesting, threading, and manipulating the course of what had to have happened, you were the needle threading the tapestry. You may have pricked a few fingers? An understatement. You may have defeated the dark king, but you simply replaced him. You ended his reign of destruction, but in the end caused so much more. So what? It had to be that way. Plans and schemes that could not be changed. It could not have happened any other way… could it? Could such actions really be construed as wrongdoing? How dare they think such things! That’s what Tavros thought; why he tried to stop you, and where is he now?! Curse them! ALL OF THEM!

  
     You want to scream, you want to scream so loud, but your attempt to cry out manifests itself as little more than a feeble, barely audible moan, which fades into a slow gurgle as the wind of your last breath rattles your limp voice box.  
    

The ringing begins to fade, and you are finally growing tired, NO! You can’t! You must stay awake! You must! It cannot end like this. No! Plans still need to be finished, no. Irons: still in the fire. Stop. Please. NO!

  
     With one last bit of sheer will, you open your eyes, but your oxygen starved brain is no longer processing anything from the optical nerve. Your lack of vision; however, does not stop your blood, previously held back by your eyelids, from staining your dead cornea. All you sense is vacant nothingness.

  
     John would have understood, right? You never did tell... how the ones he loved… Never mentioned…As your mind dulls, you realize the last thing you had a chance at never had been yours; and it hurts more than any physical pain ever could. You wish it would stop; just wish life did not always have to be so complicated… everything you…; just wish you could just…  
Rest in Peace.

Vriska Serket.  
Forever reminding us of the meaning of both good and evil.  
Died a just death on June 16th, 2011.

 

Written by Michael Kidd  
Characters by Andrew Hussie  
Art by *V-inks, Michael Kidd, Andrew Hussie.

**Author's Note:**

> just some notes.
> 
> I have no idea why the tags are messed up. i have tried fixing them multiple times. so annoying.
> 
> I intend this to be completely standalone, hopefully it makes sence and has the same impact to people unfamilar to the story as those familar with it. As such, I left out what some may consider glaring ommisions/mistakes.
> 
> I would love feedback, as this is my first attempt at writing fiction.


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